Angel
by Daybreak Instance
Summary: And yet, her power over him is immeasurable. Intoxicating. D/E


"Elena."

It's intriguing, the way she reacts to him.

Her devotion to Stefan is unquestionable, but he cannot help but notice the quickening of her heartbeat as he voices her name, the ghost of a whisper on his lips.

"What are you doing here, Damon?"

She puts up a convincing facade. Her expression remains steady, her face composed, but the pounding of her heartbeat gives it all away much too easily. The corners of his mouth turn up as he notes the unmistakable reddening of her cheeks, a sign of her awareness of her own weakness.

He makes her weak.

"Your window was open. I simply couldn't _resist_ gracing you with my presence," he spoke, eyebrows flying.

Renders her powerless.

Her voice shook. "It wasn't meant for you. You know that."

And yet, her power over him is immeasurable. Intoxicating. It infiltrates him, breathes life into his oxygen-poor blood, and yet he can never seem to get enough of it – even when it rips at his heart, cleaves to it like an unrelenting, savage beast that's bound to rip its prey into a thousand bloody pieces.

"Of course it wasn't," Damon sneers, the half-grin still on his face. "But I'm afraid Stefan has some errands to take care of as of this moment, so you're stuck with me for now."

"Where is he?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

He smirks and takes a step toward her, but her eyes widen as she backs up a little in the opposite direction. He stops mid-stride.

Fear.

He can sense it, the panic that emanates from her being. Is it because of his sudden movement? Or is it fear of the unknown – of what he is to her, of what he _could_ be to her?

"Elena." He says her name again, this time barely a whisper, and she seems to soften at the tone. The sweet word rolls off his tongue like honeydew.

He closes the distance between the two of them, slowly, one step at a time. He can sense her tension, could smell it mixed with the longing for him to come closer, _closer_.

She just couldn't make up her mind, could she? Or perhaps she already has.

He stops inches away from her face, his heart and mind racing. If it were a year ago, he would have simply had his way with her. There would have been no stopping him, not even her cries of pain because he was _Damon Salvatore. _But now… what has he become? He would rip the throat out of anyone who would have done what he had wanted to do to her, just like _that_. Besides, he could get _that_ easily elsewhere. After all, what woman could resist that perfectly sculpted face, those steel blue eyes that seemed to pierce through souls and see all that has and will happen, that whispers to her in soft, unspoken syllables, _I will be very good to you_?

Yes, Damon is known for being able to get any woman he wants. Any woman but _her_.

Perhaps it is because he refuses to compel her. Perhaps it is because there is no way he would take her inhibition away from her like her would any other girl, no way could he forgive himself if he did anything to upset her.

She is his angel.

He can feel the warmth radiating from her skin, mixed with the sweet smell of longing he knows that _she knows_ that he is aware of.

One more step, and the entire length of his body is pressed against her warm form, trapping her against the bedroom wall. A shudder runs down his spine as he hears her sharp intake of breath, accompanied by a shaky exhale. Without thinking, he dips his head lower as she raises her own, and their parted lips brush ever so softly.

"Elena."

"Yes?"

Her question is barely audible, drowned out by a mixture of fear and lust, of resentment and… no, not love. She couldn't. He peers at her upturned face, chocolate eyes half-lidded as they gaze into his own, and cannot believe what he sees. She is giving in.

He can't do this.

"You should get some sleep. Nobody likes a sleepy bride on her wedding day."

He would not be able to live with himself if he had taken her then and there, and God knows that he would have had to do so for a very long time.

"Damon, please stay. I want you to stay."

If she wants him, she should not have agreed to marry his damned brother in the first place.

"Good night, Mrs. Salvatore."

He is gone.


End file.
